


A Solo Fire

by Lunix



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Aphrodisiacs, Coming Untouched, Consent Issues, Drug-Induced Sex, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, Knotting, M/M, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunix/pseuds/Lunix
Summary: Illya and Napoleon work well together, despite the latter being an omega. It's never been an issue, until Napoleon gets roofied in a hotel bar, and manages to make it upstairs to Illya's room.





	A Solo Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Slight warning for unwanted aphrodisiac, hence the consent issues. Constructive criticism appreciated!

Illya opened his eyes to a dark room, a small shaft of light filtering past the curtains that graced the hotel room window.

It took him a few seconds to adjust, picking out the hazy lines of furniture around the large bed and a different, foreign shape. He pushed himself up, the sheets pooling around his waist. The thin shirt that he had always worn to bed rode slightly up across his stomach as he reached across to flick on the bedside lamp. It was a testament to his training that he didn’t start when he realised who was stood at the side.

“What are you doing, cowboy?” he said, accent thick with sleep. He deposited his gun on the bedside table, his other hand having been wrapped around the grip beneath his pillow since he’d woken up. Illya was used to having his sleep disturbed for two things; the call of nature, or someone attempting to kill him. This was a novelty.

Napoleon was swaying a little on his feet, gaze unfocused as he looked down at the KGB agent. In the gentle light, Illya could see that the skin around his usually perfect collar was flushed a pretty shade of red.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. He knew the man had a habit of partaking in a drink when they were on missions together, but Napoleon tended to keep it together quite well. Alcohol played havoc with the omega’s suppressants when imbibed in large enough quantities. Since finding out that the CIA’s best man was an omega, just over a month ago, Illya had made it a personal task to find out every way that Napoleon’s biology could be a liability when they were on the job. The tiny yellow pills that he took twice a day had become an obsession to Illya, prompting the other numerous times to make sure he kept himself medicated.

Without them, Napoleon would be vulnerable to an alpha’s voice or pheromones, if they were strong enough. Though alphas and omegas only made up ten percent of the population each, leaving it far more likely that their enemies would be betas, it was still a high enough statistic to present a problem. One in ten soldiers could have Napoleon on his knees, and that wasn’t a risk Illya was willing to take.

“I’m not drunk, peril,” Napoleon said with a slight crook of his lips. His infuriating mouth, always amused. Illya slid out from the bed and stood, looking down at the still shifting man.

“I can smell the whisky on your breath.”

He was almost disappointed. Illya didn’t think that Napoleon was the type of agent to risk messing up a mission just to get drunk.

“I’ll take you back to your room.”

“No.”

Illya looked exasperated when he reached out, wrapping a firm arm around Napoleon’s waist. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d put someone to bed when they’d had too much to drink; a fond memory of Gaby flitted across his mind, on his first mission with her. Turned out that she was an alpha as well, and once they’d fucked the sexual tension away a couple of times, there was nothing between them but the lingering remnants of attraction and posturing. It had been a good week.

“You need to sleep this off,” he said, his voice almost commanding. Napoleon paused before he turned in the grip, pressing the length of his body against Illya’s side in an unprecedented movement. The Russian blinked, slow and steady.

“I’m not drunk,” Napoleon repeated, lifting his head to find Illya’s eyes. His own were dilated, far more than they should have been, even with the dim light. “I do believe that someone slipped something into my glass.” The direct, almost clinical way he reported that he’d been roofied was typical of the spy. It wasn’t the first time he’d been drugged, and it would likely not be the last, in his line of work.

“Even more reason to get you back to your room.”

“No,” he said sharply, before he pushed Illya firmly. The backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat down, looking at him wryly.

“Are you wanting to fight me, cowboy? You remember how it went the first time, yes?” he said with a short chuckle. Napoleon had put up a good fight, especially for an American, but it had ended with his arm around the other’s throat, and his body against his back.

Napoleon shook his head. In one fluid movement, he straddled the larger, thighs pressing around his legs and situating himself on his lap. Anyone else, and Illya would have snapped their neck before they ever got so close. He’d developed a trust for the other, fortunately.

“Not that sort of drug. Ones on the black market. Remember that smuggling ring we worked on back in April?” he said, hands moving to press down onto Illya’s shoulders, moving to trail his fingers along the fine hairs on his neck. Illya just nodded, not trusting himself to speak at that moment. His thumb twitched.

The drugs had been developed specifically for omegas. They bypassed the suppressants, inducing a state of heightened sexual arousal. Not heat, where they needed a knot to satisfy them, multiple times over the course of a few days; though scientists were undoubtedly trying, nothing had been able to simulate a full heat or rut yet. The powder was effective, but less so.

Now that Illya knew, he could tell. The colour on his throat, the misty cloud in his eyes, the slight scent of Napoleon’s need that made his mouth water. He found the agent attractive. There was no denying that, but everything was strictly professional between them. One of the liabilities would be fucking his omega partner. Possibly the largest one.

“Yeah, I remember. You sure that’s what it was?” he asked, large hands falling onto Napoleon’s hips without much thought, the twitching thumb steadying as soon as it came into contact.

“Certain. I stole some once we wrapped it up. Wanted to try it,” Napoleon said. His lip quirked again, and Illya wanted to bite it.

“There’s a reason it’s on the black market, cowboy. It’s not safe or approved by your little American organisation.” The FDA had blocked numerous attempts to get the drug on the market. There was too much at risk; normal roofies were bad enough, never mind these. The possibilities for abuse and misuse were endless. One of them was sat in Illya’s lap, slowly grinding down onto him.

“When have legalities ever stopped me?” Napoleon laughed. Illya wished he could catch his laugh, replace it with the memories of his partner’s face when he was strapped down in that chair. He knew Napoleon still woke up in a cold sweat sometimes. They’d had to share rooms on occasion. “Stop overthinking this, peril. I want you to fuck me, now.” Despite his confident words, Napoleon’s cheeks were flushed, his gaze almost uncertain and watching the Russian in askance.

Illya hesitated, but only for a few seconds.

He lifted Napoleon up and turned so he could drop him onto the mattress, body moving between his legs and finding his lips in a violent, nipping kiss. Napoleon’s legs tightened around his waist, groaning and finding some of his blonde hair to pull. It was messy and argumentative, like the two of them were. When he broke apart, Napoleon drew a breath like a man breaking the surface of water, hands jerking on Illya’s shirt.

“Off, now. I want to feel you.”

Illya ignored him, choosing instead to pull Napoleon’s tie from around his neck. “You chose to drink in this suit, cowboy. This is your fling suit.” He said the word with distaste; it rankled him how Napoleon went from bed to bed.

“Said you’d been watching me,” Napoleon laughed, breaking off into a needy whine when his wrists were pulled taut and together, the other end of the tie looped around one bar of the headboard. He tugged on them experimentally, only to tense when Illya looked down at him.

“They’re loose enough for you to escape from. You do so, we stop,” he said. Napoleon’s breath caught in his throat and he nodded eagerly, arching into cool fingers as Illya unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it aside, exposing his chest, bunching with his suit jacket at his sides. It was awkward, with his arms above his head, but he didn’t try to pull free again.

Illya shifted backwards so he could catch the hem of Napoleon’s pants, drawing them off and casting them to one side. His mouth found his inner thigh, pushing apart his legs firmly. He kissed the soft skin, laying a trail upwards towards his underwear. Napoleon squirmed a little, conscious not to disturb the tie.

“Are you going to actually do something?” he finally burst out with, only to yelp when his thigh was bitten, glaring downwards at the other. A rare grin crossed the Russian’s face, pulling his underwear down as well then. Napoleon’s cock bobbed slightly with the motion, already leaking against his stomach, slick from his hole dampening the bottom sheet. It generally only happened during his heat, but the illicit drugs tried to mimic as much of an omega’s biology as possible. He tried to close his legs then, protesting with a grunt when Illya forcibly held them open.

“No,” Illya said firmly, tongue flicking out to taste the pre that was gathering at Napoleon’s tip. Even the small contact was exaggerated for the omega, who moaned loudly and bucked up, or would have had large hands not been holding his body down.

“Come on, you know I don’t need all this foreplay. Just fuck me already, peril,” he demanded, feeling his hole twitch at the thought. He might have caught the Russian watching him, but only because he’d been watching right back. He’d jerked himself more than once to fantasies of the large man, holding him down and claiming him, even if he knew it was unrealistic. It would mess up the professional relationship they had.

Illya paused again, but knelt up. He pulled his shirt over his head, chest dotted with a few tiny scars, silvery white. His boxers were the next to go, cock curved upwards to his own belly. He took himself in hand, stroking a few times to gather pre in his hand. One of the perks of being an alpha was just a little bit more of everything. Bigger dick, more come, ability to manhandle disobedient and bratty omegas into a position to teach them their place. He rolled Napoleon onto his front then, the loose hold that the tie had keeping as it just twisted a little at the top. The man sounded surprised, but willingly pushed his ass up when Illya tugged him onto his knees, leaned down on his forearms and elbows.

“You tell me to stop, we stop,” the alpha stated, fat head of his cock pushing between his cheeks, fucking between them briefly. Napoleon shuddered when he felt the size, and briefly considered asking for some artificial lubricant. His body had other ideas, releasing more of the slick in anticipation, feeling exposed in this position. He just mumbled something affirmative, side of his face pushed into the mattress so he could still breathe.

Illya spread him then, catching on his hole a couple of times, before he pushed inside. It was slow at first, the tight heat making him groan, feeding the greedy spy inch by inch. Napoleon forced himself to relax, his heart hammering in his chest as he whined again.

“Ah, yes,” he groaned, trying to push back to take him all in, though the grip he was in stopped that. “Come _on_ , peril. Just fuck me already!” He was hard as a rock, cock surrounded by nothing but air and craving friction. The size of the man and the lack of real preparation should have hurt, but the drug took care of that. Everything felt multiplied; the feel of Illya’s cock inside of him, the silk on his wrists, the deep breathing of the man behind him.

He yelped softly when Illya pushed the last few inches inside, feeling his sack hit his own. His forehead was damp from sweat. Illya only waited a few seconds to make sure that Napoleon was alright, before he began fucking him in earnest. Large hands gripped his hips powerfully, thumbs pressed so hard that he would have bruises waiting for him in the morning. The room filled with the sounds of Napoleon’s shameless moans and needy whines, a constant litany of ‘fuck, yes, god, Illya, yes’ accompanying the wet noise of Illya’s cock, fucking inside his wanton hole.

Illya was a little quieter; dark eyes tracing the curve of Napoleon’s back as it arched up. He was a beautiful omega, one that was meant to be on an alpha’s cock and no one else’s. He leaned down, shifting his position until a loud keen was wrenched from Napoleon.

“There, Illya, right there,” he choked out, the sensations almost overwhelming him, the drug flowing through his system and setting every nerve ending that Illya was sliding against on fire. His hands scrabbled on the bed, trying to find something to grip. Even in his haze, he didn’t let them slip free. He could feel something coiling in his belly, pushing his hips back to meet every thrust but still searching for friction himself. “I wanna come, Illya. Let me come, touch me,” he begged.

The other didn’t touch his cock.

“You can come like this,” he said, his quickened breathing and the slight catch in his voice on the middle word showing he wasn’t unaffected.

“I can’t, I need you to touch me, please, Illya,” Napoleon whined, his eyes watering in frustration. His orgasm was building quickly, he just needed something to push him over the edge.

“You can,” Illya repeated, slowing his movements to drag across his prostate rather than just hitting it every so often. Napoleon keened again, fingers flexing into fists uselessly. The fire in his stomach raged on, and he was just _so close_ , he was _right there_. He shook his head slightly.

“Need it, please,” he begged again, thrusting against the air every chance he got, uselessly. Illya leaned down across him, larger chest against his back, lips to his ear.

“You don’t.”

Napoleon felt teeth sink into his shoulder and he spiralled, the other’s name on his lips as he came untouched, cock shooting its load across the pale hotel sheets. He shook with the force of his climax, hole tightening around Illya’s dick. He wasn’t given chance to come down, groaning with slight saliva gathered on the corner of his lips as he felt the Russian’s knot catch the edge of his hole.

Illya only managed to fuck into him a few more times before the base of his cock had thickened too much to leave, tying into the omega and pumping him full of copious amounts of come. His orgasm came in waves, slow and lazy ones that had him murmuring how good Napoleon had been, how pretty the omega looked on the end of his cock. Napoleon felt himself preening through his own haze, liking being so full. When the knot dragged across his prostate briefly, he yelped, dribbling from his cock in a valiant effort.

“So much,” he said tiredly, willingly letting Illya manhandle and manoeuvre him around on the bed. Illya pulled the tie free and Napoleon back against his chest as he laid down, reaching over him to flick the light off. His knot felt comfortable inside of the agent, pulling the duvet up and over them both, before resting his hand on his messy stomach.

“You need to be here in the morning, cowboy,” he said, drawing lazy patterns on his heated skin. Napoleon didn’t speak for a minute.

“That’s not how I work, peril,” he said finally, before he moaned when the hand moved lower to his overstimulated cock, squirming slightly in Illya’s grip.

“I’m changing how we work. You have a problem, take it up with Waverly,” Illya said. He ran his thumb across the other’s head, rubbing his slit. “I want your pretty lips around my cock in the morning.”

Napoleon shifted a little, cock twitching.

“Temporary job change, then.”


End file.
